


Of Monkey Suits and Espionage

by hummingbirdbandit



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society (Homestuck), Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Human/Troll Relationship, M/M, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-29 23:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14483553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingbirdbandit/pseuds/hummingbirdbandit
Summary: Karkat Vantas is not a good criminal. Dave Strider just wants something to do. A chance meeting forces these two to partner, and see what happens when an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object.Can Karkat find proof of his greatest theory? Can Dave find a way to fill the hole in his life? What the hell is a cummerbund? Find out in "Of Monkey Suits and Espionage."





	Of Monkey Suits and Espionage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Java_bean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Java_bean/gifts).



> A HUGE thank you to nomisupernova and AnMochi for editing this monster. You guys ripped me apart in the best ways! This never would have been finished if it weren't for you!
> 
> For Java-bean - thank you for letting me snatch this AWESOME prompt. You've created a monster!

Karkat Vantas was a damn good reporter.

He had never hesitated to jump on a potential lead, and his instincts landed him several generous pay-raises and even his very own office over the years. He was first on the scene during the fire that had swept downtown Houston the previous month, and wore the scars to show for it. What he was not, however, was a good criminal.

Karkat straightened his silk tie nervously and pushed open the ajar maintenance exit. The door creaked loudly on its ancient rusted hinges, echoing down the alleyway like the wail of a banshee, causing Karkat to cringe at the sound. Getting into the stakeholder’s gala had taken calling in every favor he had, and he was not about to fuck it up now. He had spent days with Kanaya rehearsing human black-tie etiquette, standing on her stool as she designed him a tux. When he had asked Kanaya why only the males wore ties to these events, she rolled her eyes and “accidentally” stuck him with a pin.

Reminding himself to thank his man on the inside, he strode down the dark hallways. Laughter and voices poured through the open door to the ballroom, and Karkat hesitated a long moment before slipping inside and mingling with the crowd. The place was littered with Alternian stakeholders, so his grey skin didn’t stand out nearly as much as he had anticipated. He easily spotted the Heiress, dressed in Crocker Corp red (disturbingly close to his blood color, he mused), chatting amicably and gliding about the room with some fizzy drink in her hand. He held his breath as she passed, and relaxed when he wasn’t noticed. He was in. Now he just needed to get into the bookkeeper’s room and find hard evidence to back his theories. Crocker couldn’t hide her schemes forever, no matter how hard she tried to drown them.

Karkat skated out the far door and recalled the building map in his thinkpan’s ocular globe. If his memory served correctly, he just had to make it down the next hallway, up two flights of stairs…

Karkat turned the corner and ran face-first into a pair of hulking men. They were huge for humans. He grinned nervously, flashing a mouthful of sharp teeth and receiving glares in return.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the larger man demanded.

“Fuck.”

* * *

 

Dave Strider was bored. Ridiculously bored. So bored they were gonna have to slam some nails into him and hang photos on him while he supported a load-bearing wall or some shit. He had only agreed to come to this party because it was “his duty as a major shareholder” and “his duty as Jane’s friend” and “his turn to make an appearance unless he wanted to jump on Jade’s next camping excursion,” according to Rose. Galumphing around the wilderness for a week was much more exhausting than dressing up for one night in a monkey suit and talking to people, so he decided to show. He was already starting to regret this decision.

He sipped at the crystal stemware in his hand, admiring the look of the dark liquid inside. He was no sommelier, so it wasn’t like he could tell if it was anything special—but if Jane was serving it, that meant it was at least expensive. Still, it was too bitter for his taste. Just one more drop in the bucket of shitty things about this night. As he stood beside Jane and listened to her prattle to the fiftieth guest with no end in sight, trying to come up with some ill rhymes about shitty wine for his next movie, he heard a loud commotion from the other side of the ballroom. Jane’s hired muscle were hauling a small troll out the door—and he was not going quietly. Dave had never heard such inventive curses. Over the music and the flustered party guests, Dave swore he heard the phrase “grubfisted hulk of steaming maggot-waste.”

Jackpot.

Thinking quickly, Dave feigned mortification and tugged on the sleeve of Jane’s dress. “Hey, Janey? Your security seems to have… uh… kidnapped my boyfriend. Can you maybe…?” Jane’s brows made a run for her well-coiffed hairline, apparently noticing the disturbance for the first time, and she muttered a few words into her earpiece. The guards stopped, still holding the struggling troll aloft, and Jane sighed at Dave in exasperation.

“Honestly, Dave, I wish you had told me you were bringing a guest. I know we rarely get to speak without work getting in the way, but you could have at least mentioned a new relationship! In fact, I’m shocked you kept it from me this long. Roxy is usually on top of these things.”

“Recent development.” Dave shrugged. “I’ll go fetch him. Thanks for that - poor guy likely got lost on the way to take a piss and wandered somewhere he shouldn’t have been.” He flashed a patented Strider smile and she relaxed.

“Alright. Just please keep your plus-one out of trouble, Dave. You know you’re always welcome, but the other shareholders expect a level of decorum from these events.” She cringed. “And please ask him to watch his mouth.”

* * *

 

Karkat wasn’t sure why his captors had suddenly released him, but he wasn’t about to stick around to find out. He pushed past gaping guests in Dior and Chanel, trying to disappear among the insipid assholes and their indulgent soporifics. Before he could make it far, someone looped an arm through his, knocking him off-balance and tugging him easily in the other direction.

He blinked at the man. He’d recognize that face anywhere - the dopey shades, the ghost-white skin, the douchetastic smirk plastered across the man’s face. Dave Strider, shit-slinging, movie-making billionaire. He was in an absolutely repugnant tux - a persian orange number with an ultramarine vest and puke-green bowtie. His cufflinks were jpeg artifacts cast in brass. The ensemble was technically black-tie acceptable, but even Karkat with his limited knowledge of human dress knew that this would have gotten him promptly ejected were he not friends with the host of the party. He sputtered. He hadn’t expected to run into Strider at this event - it didn’t seem like his kind of party.

“Strider? what are you-”

“Hush, babe, I gotchu. Jane told her lunkheads all about the misunderstanding. Let’s get you another drink and rejoin the party, hm?”

Karkat sputtered, looking for words, and allowed himself to be led deeper into the fray. A flute of something—champagne?—was pressed into his hand and he took a sip against his better judgment. It was delicious and light, and more expensive than he could even have hoped to try. He nursed it and luxuriated in the taste. The sea of people parted, and he found himself face-to-face with the Crocker Heiress herself. He choked.

She was resplendent in her low-backed evening gown and respectable heels. The bright red of the fabric reflected in the polished marble of the floor and in the lenses of her glasses. Her hair was short and swept back into a soft bun at the nape of her neck. Wisps of grey peeked out at her temples, and laugh lines around her eyes and mouth tallied her age onto her skin. She looked magnificent.

"So this is the man, Dave?” she asked, offering a hand. Karkat shook it, biting his tongue for once. “Nice to meet you. Jane. Jane Crocker.”

“K-karkat,” he said, and immediately kicked himself for giving out his name. Jane raised an eyebrow at him.

"Karkat Vantas? Reporter for Houston Weekly? That Karkat?” she asked. He nodded weakly. She smiled at him warmly. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Vantas. I’m glad to see Dave has found someone to tolerate him. Hopefully you can get him to come out of his apartment once in awhile. I need to return to my guests, but I hope you have a wonderful evening.” Jane smiled tersely at the two of them and strode off into the crowd. Karkat stood awkwardly beside the billionaire for a moment and finally turned on him.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” he hissed. Dave only smirked at him.

“I thought that was pretty obvious - I saved your ass, and in return, you’re gonna keep me company while I slog through this snoozefest. Once it’s over, we go our separate ways. I wait a couple days, let slip to Jane that it didn’t work out, and you never have to think about my sexy face again until you see it on another billboard. It’s a win-win—you get to spend time here guzzling Chateau Giordano and feeling like an ambassador to Rich-Dude City, and I have someone to talk to that doesn’t make me wanna staple my bowtie to my forehead just for something interesting to do. Sound like a deal?”

Karkat stared at Dave. He didn’t appear to be joking, and it wasn’t like he had any other options. One flick of Strider’s wrist and he would be sailing out the door without so much as a how-do-you-do. Karkat sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. Fine! Whatever. You’ve got me by the anguish bladder, so it’s not like I could say no. Presumptuous prick.” Dave’s eyebrows hitched behind his shades. He leaned against one of the colossal pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling and tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Awesome. So, what are you doing here? Janey’s a bit preoccupied, but I know a party-crasher when I see one. I doubt you have an invitation in that tailored suit of yours. Why break in to such a boring place? Hoping her stakeholder announcements will be interesting enough for the front page?”

Karkat took another sip of his drink—damn, it was good—and sighed. He’d already been caught. No sense in pretending he wasn’t sneaking around. “I was looking for evidence for a story I’ve been working on. I have... a few theories, but no hard proof. This place is impenetrable during the day but I figured at night, while everyone was sloshed on soporifics and occupied, I’d be able to take a good look around. But clearly that didn’t work. So I guess what I’m doing is playing your imaginary plus one.”

“What’s your story about?” Karkat tensed. Without evidence, he would sound like a crackpot, and this man was best friends with the Heiress herself. Saying a word to him would be nothing short of moronic. He shrugged and tried to look nonchalant.

“Just some business piece. Missing funds here, strange purchases there. Hoping to catch someone money laundering or embezzling so I can finally get a nicer desk in my barren office.” He hoped the lie was enough to explain his presence - he had never been good at lying. Fortunately for him, Dave didn’t press.

“I could give you the grand tour,” he finally said. Karkat was floored.

“What?”

Strider shrugged.  “I know the way around. Know where the security is. If you wanna get your snoop on, dogg, I can get you to where you’re going. You up for it?”

“But… why? Why would you help some,” he lowered his voice, “some asshole reporter snoop around your friend’s company? Some stranger you don’t even know? I could be stealing company secrets!” Dave shrugged.

“If someone is stealing from the company, it would hurt them, not Jane. You discovering some big scheme in the works would actually be a help to her. Besides, I’d love something to do.” He smiled lazily. “I’m bored out of my mind here.”

* * *

 

Dave nonchalantly led Karkat down deserted hallways and dark staircases. The troll on his arm was tense and shaking, and pulled away as soon as they were out of sight of passersby. Dave found it a little too amusing - it was clear the guy didn’t have a malicious bone in his weird alien body. If trolls even had bones. They walked in silence, and finally came upon a large wooden door. Dave waved his hand.

“Tadah. Bookkeeping. You know how to get into this thing?” he asked. “Looks pretty solid. This could probably keep out a whole zombie apocalypse full of bodies, look at that thing. What is that, oak?” He rapped a knuckle lightly against it. Karkat flinched.

“Jegus christ do you ever shut up?” he whispered loudly, pulling some small box out of his pocket. Dave raised an eyebrow.

“What, do you moonlight as a locksmith? Anything else I should know about you, Clark Kent?”

Karkat dropped to one knee on the hard floor and slid a metal tool into the lock. “Look, I know a guy, alright? He thought this might come in handy, so I took some lessons. Now would you keep watch and shut up already? I know starving grubs that make less noise than you.” Karkat turned his attention to the door.

Dave glanced down the corridor, reveling in the childish glee of doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. The hall was empty, and boring to look at even with the thrill of mischief, so he returned his gaze to the troll at his feet. Karkat’s face was scrunched up with focus, his teeth bared in an angry little snarl as he struggled with the tools. He wasn’t bad-looking, Dave decided. A little prickly and easily agitated, but there was definitely something interesting beneath that suit. A pair of ridiculously short horns poked out from his hair. His shoulders moved with purpose as he shifted the tools. His suit was a perfect fit, framing his body all the way down to…

A sound in the hall snapped Dave from his thoughts. Someone was coming. He shook Karkat’s shoulder in hushed panic, pulling him to his feet. Of all the individual moments in a lifetime of shitty timing, this one was pretty striking. Gotta think - gotta find a reason why two bros would just be out here, leaning against the door filled with top-secret info, dressed like James fucking Bond.

“Strider, what are-” Karkat started. Dave kissed him.

He leaned into Karkat , pinning him against the door with his body. He slid a hand up to rest on the smaller man’s hip, and parted his lips slightly. Karkat struggled for a moment before he wizened to the ruse and relaxed into the kiss. Karkat’s arms, stronger than expected, circled around his neck, and Karkat was kissing him back. A long, slender tongue slipped into his mouth and he had to focus hard to keep from moaning. It had been a long time.

Dave heard a surprised squeak from behind him, and the scurrying sounds of retreating feet. He waited a moment longer than was strictly necessary to sell the illusion and broke the kiss, releasing Karkat from his iron grip. The troll stared up at him, his eyes lidded and soft, reflecting the light of the dimly lit hallway. He saw Karkat come back to himself, and the softness in his eyes was instantly replaced by rage.

“What the actual FUCK, Dave?” Karkat shouted, grabbing his lapels and shaking him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? In what universe is it okay to force yourself on someone while they’re working? Did you really think I would want your disgusting human taste-organ in my squawk gaper?” Dave grinned. He was cute when he was mad.

“Chill, Vantas. Someone was coming. Two bros making out is a lot less suspicious than two bros loitering near an office filled with company info. There’s no way anyone recognized you. Now, you were working on cracking that door like a kinder egg?” Karkat gaped at him, still horribly offended, and turned back to the door. The troll muttered some curses in some strange language - Dave assumed they were curses by the tone anyway - and the door finally clicked open.

“Sweet,” Dave said, a little impressed. He followed Karkat as he slipped into the room, and closed the door behind him.

Cabinets choked the room, and the desk was strewn with ledgers and papers in all states of disarray. Dave could see Karkat deflate with the realization of the sheer amount of information they would have to sift through in order to find anything of use. He grinned.

“I’ve got a plan,” Dave said. Karkat raised an eyebrow at him as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a wallet-sized metallic lump. His Bro had spent weeks working on this little doodad, taking a page out of Dave’s book. He modified the SBAHJ-ifier into a functional piece of technology - a little point and click, and a copy would be sent to wherever he set the little dials. He held it up and smiled. “Check this baby out.” He tossed it to Karkat, who nearly dropped it on the floor. The troll gave it a once-over and stared at him blankly.

“What is it?”

“Here, let me just-” Dave took back the camera and pushed a button on the side. The lens popped out of the metal cover, and he approached the desk. He twisted the dials, adjusting the coordinates, and clicked the device towards the papers on the desk. Beside him, an identical pile of papers thumped to the floor, scattering everywhere. Karkat jumped.

“Did you just?” He leaned down and picked up the papers, comparing them to the ones on the desk. “What the fuck is that thing?”

Dave dropped a shrug. “I know a guy alright?” he echoed. The wonder in Karkat’s face turned to irritation. Strider - 1, Vantas - 0. Karkat turned the camera on its side and eyed the dials skeptically.

“I don’t have pockets. Can you have this center on my office? No, not the office, someone would notice the mess… My apartment maybe?” Dave nodded. Years of bantering with Dirk as he sent tech all over the world had made him pretty good at manipulating navigational minutia.

“Sure, easy. What’s the address?” Karkat grimaced.

“Fuck. Nevermind. I don’t need some asshole producer with dirt on me knowing where I live. The office is locked - I’ll call ahead and make sure no one goes in.”

“I could always send them to my place. We leave early, head down and pick them up. No one gets in my apartment. I got security up to my ears. Security like a static balloon that won’t let go of my posh sleeves. I got lasers and locks and anonymity and shit.” Why was he offering to take this stranger home? Helping him sneak around a boring party was one thing - wandering around town with a reporter on his arm was something else entirely. He chalked it up to too much shitty wine and touched the dial. “What do you say?” Karkat nodded.

“Sure. Fine. Just hurry. I don’t know how long we have before your heiress friend sends someone to look for you.”

Dave stood by the door and watched Karkat work. He didn’t know what the troll was looking for, so he figured his skills would be best utilized staying out of the way. Fifteen minutes or so passed with Karkat occasionally snapping pictures and opening drawers, taking supreme care to return everything to its previous location. He grumbled to himself in that same clicking, chittering language as he rushed about the room. Once every few minutes, someone would walk by the door and Dave would signal for silence. No one knocked.

Finally, Karkat straightened. He cracked a joint somewhere. The sudden noise made Dave jump. “We golden?” Dave asked. Karkat nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here before we get caught. Again.”

* * *

 

Karkat was kicking himself as he walked down the busy Houston streets, accompanied by a man wearing a tailored tuxedo likely worth more than everything he owned and standing out like a full moon on an Alternian night. Passersby gaped and pointed as Dave passed, and Karkat begrudgingly played the part of drunken arm candy, hoping no one paid attention to him in favor of fawning over Strider. An agonizingly long walk later, they arrived at the steps of an upscale apartment building. Dave pulled out a key and unlocked the building, leading him into a well-kept but vacant lobby.

“So, which one is yours?” Karkat asked, trying to fill the silence. He detached himself from Dave’s arm and looked around, unsure how close to stand to the man. Too far away, and it’s offensive, too close and it’s intimidating… he would never understand humans and their issues with personal space.

"Um… all of them. I own the building.” Karkat blinked.

“Oh.”

The elevator pinged, and Karkat maintained the silence through the (very long, how tall was this building?) ride to the top. He stepped out into a penthouse hallway. Of course. Only the best for Mr. Cooldouche. Dave fumbled with his keyring. Was he nervous? Why was he nervous? The door to the apartment swung open, and Karkat took in the view.

It was surprisingly clean for a bachelor’s apartment, and surprisingly devoid of any of his movie paraphernalia. Director’s Guild and Academy Awards rested on shelves lining the walls, and the bones of some long-extinct creature were arranged under glass against the far wall, under an ostentatiously huge television. An old pizza box was laying on the kitchen counter, and empty apple juice containers littered the floor around the couch. It was… cozy. It was also completely covered in loose papers.

Karkat gestured at where the highest concentration of papers lay. “I take it that’s… I can just…”

“Yeah, sure. Here, let me-” They gathered the papers into some semblance of an organized pile, then Dave disappeared into a side room. He returned with a black, nondescript briefcase. Karkat caught the name on the label and choked.

“I’m really more of a summer. Got anything in brown?” Karkat immediately regretted joking. Dave nodded thoughtfully and stepped back out of the room. He brought an identical bag, in a cool brown leather. Before he could protest, Dave started stuffing the papers into the case. Three more stacks of paper winked at Karkat from the table, and he raised an eyebrow. Dave grumbled under his breath and fished a backpack out from behind the couch, emptying it onto the floor and loading the rest of the paperwork inside.

“Well… I guess that’s it. Unless you wanna stay and get something to eat. I know alcohol doesn’t really do it for trolls but there was enough sugar in that champagne to choke a honeybee, so I figure getting some food in us might not be a bad plan.”

Karkat was officially lost. Everything he had seen about Strider - every last interview and movie premiere - said that the man was an asshole, too steeped in his ironic gestures to give a shit about anyone. And here he was offering to buy him dinner and giving him a briefcase worth more than he made in a month like it was nothing. Hell, for him it probably was nothing. He was nothing like Karkat expected, and he didn’t know how to handle it. And now he was asking him to stay? Here, in this apartment that was nothing like he imagined, with a man he didn’t know. What reason could this rich asshole have to want him around? Unless…

“Strider, if you’re trying to buy my silence, you have it. I’m not going to tell anyone that you helped me. And if you’re trying to buy… me…” he growled, loading his voice with as much vitriol as he could, “it won’t work. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my hive.” Dave looked crestfallen, and a little hurt. Karkat’s bloodpusher clenched and he cursed.

“Look, I appreciate your help tonight, I just. Need to go home. It’s late. I have to start reading these documents. Fuck, I have to work and you have to go back to whatever the fuck billionaires do and you’re probably drunk and won’t remember this tomorrow anyway but I’m sorry, alright? I need to go. Thanks for the help.”

“I can walk you out.”

“No! No, I can. I know the way. Thanks again.” Karkat turned his back, clutching the briefcase and avoiding looking at Dave’s face, which was far too open and hurt for him to handle. Just the soporifics altering his emotions, he reminded himself. He won’t want anything to do with you come morning. Besides, if he didn’t get home soon, Kanaya was gonna send someone to find him, and that would end badly.  He exited the apartment and leaned heavily against the door. Dave was right - the sugar in the champagne was affecting his orientation and coordination, now that the adrenaline had left his system. Just had to make it home to his recuperacoon and he could sleep it off.

Karkat stumbled to the elevator and somehow managed to flag down a cab. He normally wouldn’t have spent the money on transport, but he really wasn’t feeling like himself. The cabbie dumped him outside his apartment building and he crawled his way up the stairs. He answered the 15 messages from Kanaya (how she managed to be polite and frantic simultaneously, Karkat would never understand), stripped out of his suit, and collapsed into his recuperacoon in his socks and undershirt, sleepier than he’d been in years.

* * *

 

Dave looked up at the building in front of him - Houston Weekly. Biggest newspaper in the city. It wasn’t hard to find - the hard part was going to be infiltrating the building and making it to Karkat’s office without anyone stopping him. He had dressed right for the occasion - business casual, with none of his normal ironic literal bells and figurative whistles. He knew how to be invisible.

He slipped up the stairs and no one gave him a second glance. A couple pointed questions in a typical Texan twang and he found himself outside of a wooden door with the word “Vantas” printed on a small metal plaque near the door. He could hear shouting from inside and hesitated outside. Last thing he needed was to interrupt some kind of business call. When the shouting didn’t halt or falter for a long moment, he decided to give it up. He knocked. The shouting stopped. He heard a couple loud noises, and the door opened.

Before Karkat could stop him, he pushed past him into the room and dropped into a chair, trying to seem casual and nonplussed. The room was strewn with papers - taped to the walls, covering the desk, in piles on the cabinets - and everything was highlighted and covered in red pen. Karkat was sputtering in the doorway, staring at him like he was seeing a ghost. Nice.

“Sup,” he said. Karkat’s face contorted with anger and he closed the door.

“What the FUCK are you doing here? Who let you in this building? How did you find my office? And who the fuck told you that you could bring your smarmy ass into my space and sit down like you own the place which, may I remind you, you do NOT, unless you decided to just buy this building, too, while you were out collecting fucking real estate!”

Dave held up his hands . “Dude, chill. I’m here on business. Completely entrenched in professionalism here. Look, I even wore a tie.” He straightened his tie pointedly. Karkat rolled his eyes at him.

“What business could we POSSIBLY have. You blackmailed me, and we concluded our business, and we went our separate ways.” Dave nodded.

“Yeah, that was before this.” Dave reached into his pocket and pulled out the article he had ripped from the newspaper that morning. It was a grainy photo, but the content was obvious - Dave walking home from Jane’s gala, Karkat on his arm. The headline read “STRIDER FINDS LOVE?” Karkat snatched the article from him and read, his eyes wide.

“W-what does this mean?” Karkat asked. His eyebrows tented and his frown warped into something less angry and more… unsure. Dave grinned.

“Means you’ve got a partner, Detective Vantas.”


End file.
